


Right In Front Of Me

by perfect_plan



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Arty Steve, Bad Relationship, Crushes, Divorce, M/M, good bro bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-03-05 06:05:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13381716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perfect_plan/pseuds/perfect_plan
Summary: Bucky is determined to be there for his best friend Steve after a whirlwind romance and marriage ends in divorce. Now Bucky has to help his best friend recover as well as dealing with some surprising feelings of his own.





	Right In Front Of Me

Bucky glanced at his phone and checked the time again as he sat waiting on the bench in the corridor outside of the court office. They had been in there for nearly two hours. What was taking so long? He felt bad for thinking that given what was happening inside but was there much more need to drag this thing out?

He jumped a little when the door opened a few minutes later and Steve walked out, looking so pale and sad that Bucky’s heart broke for him all over again. He looked even smaller than usual. Defeated. Bucky stood up from the bench he had been sitting on. Peggy walked out of the office too, trying her best not to look as miserable as Steve.

Steve finally looked up at Bucky and gave him a thin, pinched smile. “All done.”

Bucky’s shoulders sagged. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s for the best,” Steve said and turned to Peggy. They both looked so unhappy. “When is your flight?”

“Tomorrow morning. Early. I have to put the rest of my things in order this afternoon.”

Steve nodded. “So...this is it, I guess.”

Peggy pulled him into a hug and Steve closed his eyes tight against her shoulder. Bucky looked away. They had spent a lot of time together even through their separation and their goodbye was never going to be bombastic.

“I’ll call you from Cambridge,” Peggy said.

Steve swallowed. “Goodbye, Pegs.”

“Goodbye, Steve.” She turned to Bucky. “Take care of him.”

She didn’t have to tell him twice. “I will. Bye, Peggy.” They hugged and then Peggy walked away down the corridor towards the exit, head held high, not looking back.

Once the door had closed behind her, Steve sighed, a long, tired, broken sigh.

“Well, I’m divorced.”

Bucky put an arm around Steve’s shoulder. “It really was for the best, pal.”

“I know,” Steve said, his shoulders sagging. “I just didn’t think it would end this way.”

“No-one wanted it to,” Bucky said and rubbed his hand up and down Steve’s arm. The courthouse was steadily emptying as people left for the day. “Come on. I’ll treat to you dinner somewhere nice.” They started to walk towards the exit.

“I think I just want to go home,” Steve said.

“Okay, I understand,” Bucky said, dropping his arm.

Steve smiled at him and it was thin but reached his eyes. “I mean with you. We can get take-out.”

“Whatever you want,” Bucky said.

Steve looked at the ground. “I don’t want to be alone right now but I don’t think I’ll be very good company.”

Bucky put his arm back around Steve’s shoulder as they walked out into the bright sunlight; too nice a day for his best friend’s heart to be shattered once and for all.

“When are you ever,” he joked but didn’t let Steve go.

*

Steve was quiet on the drive home, staring out of the window, his face wearing that neutral stoic mask he wore when he was thinking too hard about something and most likely blaming himself for it. Bucky glanced at him a couple of times as they stopped and started through the traffic but he didn’t say anything. He turned on the radio to his favorite station but lowered the volume. Steve turned and gave him a smile of thanks and then turned back to the window, resting his head against the headrest.

Bucky gripped the steering wheel, feeling utterly helpless. As much as he hated to think it, he knew it would end like this between Steve and Peggy. Their romance had been fast and passionate. They had met just after Bucky and Steve had graduated from college and Bucky had been so ecstatic that someone had finally seen Steve for who he was. Peggy was beautiful and funny and didn’t care that Steve was shorter than her. She adored him and he adored her and he had been the happiest he had ever been in those first months. Bucky had gladly stepped back and let Steve savor his first relationship; God knows he deserved it after years of rejection and having his feet stepped on. He had been as surprised as everyone else when Steve and Peggy had returned from a date to announce to him that they were getting married just five months into their relationship.

Of course he had been Steve’s best man, smiling as they got married in the same courthouse they just divorced in. Just Bucky as witness - Steve’s parents had died when he was young and Peggy was estranged from hers - trying not to cry hearing Steve’s beautiful vows.

But then he’d had to watch as they’d moved in together and grown apart as their respective careers had taken off and they realized that they wanted different things. It had killed Bucky to watch Steve’s happiness turn to confusion and finally to defeat, as Peggy suggested time apart to think and finally, to get divorced when she was offered the job of a lifetime back in England and Steve wanted to stay in New York. A long distance marriage would have crumbled anyway and Steve wasn’t deluded into thinking it wouldn’t.

And now here they were. Bucky hated seeing Steve so hurt; he was such a great guy and he’d been shit on for so long, this was just unbearable.

“I should have tried harder,” Steve said quietly, breaking through Bucky’s thoughts.

Bucky glanced over but kept his eyes on the freeway. “Huh?”

Steve stared down at his hands. “With the marriage. Maybe I should have gone to England with Peggy...”

“Steve, don’t do this. Don’t put all the blame on yourself. It was a mutual decision. You would have been miserable in England and Peggy would have resented the chance of losing her dream career if she had stayed here. Things weren’t right between you for a while, you told me that yourself. What more could you have done?”

“I don’t know...something...” Steve said in a small voice.

Bucky sighed. “Stevie, it just wasn’t meant to work out. I know that sounds harsh and believe me, I wish more than anyone that things had been better but…you just weren’t right for each other as lovers in the end and you both felt that. There was no point in staying in it just for the sake of it. A loveless marriage is no fun.”

Bucky saw Steve shift a little; Bucky’s parents were divorced but had stayed married for years and Steve knew all too well how much Bucky’s childhood had hurt him. As soon as his parents had divorced, they had become different, happier people and Bucky still stung because of it. He wasn’t against marriage or for divorce but he had come to learn that staying with someone for the sake of it didn’t do anyone any favors.

Steve was silent for a moment. “I know,” he finally agreed. “I want to be friends with her but I think it’s ruined now.”

Bucky took the next exit. “You need to give it time. Things will get better but you can’t rush it.” He pulled over next to Steve’s favorite Shwarma place. Bucky wasn’t all that into Shwarma but he knew how much Steve liked it. “Steve,” Bucky said, softer, “you’re going to meet someone amazing, just as amazing as Peggy and want to marry them and it will feel right. You will.” He looked at Steve and reached across to squeeze his shoulder.

Steve swallowed hard and nodded. “Thanks, Buck.”

*

They took the take-out back to the small one bedroom apartment Steve had shared with Peggy. It looked so much bigger without her stuff; Bucky had been used to the comforting clutter of antique furniture and thrift store finds. Steve rented a studio a couple of blocks away so there hadn’t been much of his stuff here, his canvases and other art equipment taking up too much space. Now it just looked barren.

Steve picked at his food before abandoning it as they watched Breaking Bad for the millionth time. He sat at the end of the couch, knees drawn up and shoulder’s slumped, like a wounded bird. He was usually tactile - leaning against Bucky as he doodled in one of his sketchbooks, or draping his legs over Bucky’s knees - but now, he was curled as far away as possible and Bucky hated it. He put down his own food.

“Hey,” he said and Steve broke out of his thoughts and looked up. Bucky beckoned to him.

Steve let out a breath and crawled over, tucking himself against Bucky’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

“Stop apologizing,” Bucky said and shifted so they were both comfy. “It’ll get better, Steve. It will.”

*

Steve did what he always did when he was going through a rough patch after that: He threw himself into his work. He and Bucky usually called or messaged each other every day anyway so Bucky checked in, despite his own work suddenly getting busier. His agency had just landed a big client and he and his team were working flat out to come up with a good campaign so he was starting early and finishing later than usual. He knew that Steve was working on a big project; the previous year, he had designed a couple of posters for his favorite movies that had been picked up and printed by Mondo and his art career had pretty much taken off. He was designing book covers and working towards a solo show and Bucky had no doubt that he would be spending more time in his studio than in his apartment but he felt bad for not being more available to his best friend when he really needed it. Steve answered his messages with understanding but Bucky knew that the stoic Steve Rogers “I can get by on my own” facade was in full-effect.

One Friday, about six weeks after Steve and Peggy had divorced, Bucky finished work early and grabbed some beers and take-out and headed to Steve’s apartment. He was expecting not to get an answer – Steve was more than likely still at his studio – but Bucky had to piss something chronic and let himself in to use the bathroom. He put the beers and food on the dining table and instantly knew that Steve hadn’t been here for a while; there were some cups and plates that hadn’t been washed sitting by the sink and there was a funky smell coming from the trash can.

Bucky went to use the bathroom and peered into Steve’s bedroom on the way back. The bed was neat and obviously hadn’t been slept in for a while. Bucky sighed when he saw the spider plant on the window sill that Peggy had given to Steve when they had first become friends. Steve had cared for that plant carefully and lovingly. Now, it was wilted and brown. Bucky felt terrible. He should have made more of an effort to come over and see Steve. He grabbed the beers and take-out and walked the few blocks over to Steve’s studio.

*

“It’s me,” Bucky called out when he knocked on the door to the studio and went in.

Steve was sifting through a stack of papers on one of his desks and looked up in surprise.

“Hey,” he said, delighted.

Bucky walked over and held up the food and drinks. “I bring dinner. It might be a little cold now, though.” He put them down and glanced around. There was an airbed in the corner and a pile of clothes next to it. Steve _had_ been sleeping here.

“Great,” Steve said. “I’m starved.”

“I went to your place. I needed to use the bathroom so I let myself in.”

“Oh?” Steve said, sheepishly.

“I’m really sorry I’ve been so busy,” Bucky said. “Why didn’t you tell me you’ve been staying here?”

Steve sighed and the facade crumbled a little. “It hurts too much to stay at the apartment right now,” he said softly.

Bucky moved and pulled Steve into a hug. “Never think that you can’t call me and tell me stuff, even if work has me by the balls.”

Steve held Bucky tightly. “I didn’t want to dump my shit on you,” he mumbled into Bucky’s chest.

“Steven Grant, we’ve known each other forever. Your shit is my shit. You know that.”

“Ew,” Steve said.

Bucky pulled back and held Steve’s by the shoulders. “If you hurt, I hurt,” he said.

Steve sniffed and a few tears rolled down his cheeks. “I feel so bad,” he said and started to cry.

Bucky held him and let him cry. He wished Steve didn’t hold everything in until he finally broke but that was just his way. When Steve finally came up for air, his eyes red and puffy, he at least looked a little less like he was carry a thousand pounds of extra weight.

“Thanks, Buck. Sorry I didn’t let you know how bad things were. Kind of let my work take the brunt of that for me.”

“I can see,” Bucky said, walking over to the canvasses by the window. Steve had been busy: There were two works in progress on easels and several painting leaning around the window bay. They were gorgeous acrylics of giant, confused creatures walking through various landscapes. Bucky hated that whole notion of misery creating great art but in Steve’s case, he definitely focussed his negative energy into his work. His positive energy produced amazing stuff too but he had a knack for channelling his bad vibes onto the canvas.

“Steve, these are amazing.”

Steve stood next to him and folded his arms, considering. “I really like them. I might use them for the show.”

“You definitely should.” Bucky bumped him with his shoulder. “Come on. Let’s eat.”

They sat at one of the less cluttered desks and ate in companionable silence for a while.

“Remember that time in 8th grade when I had that huge nosebleed in gym class?” Steve said.

Bucky groaned. “How could I forget. Coach Hodge slipped in your blood and almost got a concussion.”

“Yeah, that happened but I was thinking more about the fact that you immediately took off your t-shirt and held it to my nose.”

“Perfectly good shirt ruined,” Bucky said taking a swig of beer.

“What I’m trying to say is that you never have to apologize for not being there for me, Buck. I don’t think I say thank you enough for always having my back.”

Bucky nudged Steve’s foot with his own. “You do.”

They finished up and it was dark outside. Bucky gathered the garbage to take with him.

“Are you staying here tonight?”

Steve sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Tonight, yeah. But I guess I really should go back to the apartment tomorrow and sort things out.”

“Need a hand? I can come and help.”

“There’s not much to do but I wouldn’t say no to the company. I’ve done all of my feeling sorry for myself, I think.”

Bucky smiled. “I’ll bring coffee.”

*

Bucky recoiled from Steve’s trash can in the kitchen as he tried to empty it. “Oh my God, Steve. What the hell is in here?” He heaved a little.

Steve was shoving dirty clothes in a bag to take down to the laundry room. “Sorry. It’s probably some old chicken or something.”

It was Saturday morning and Bucky had swung by the studio to get Steve before going back to his apartment to see just how neglected it was. It wouldn’t have been so bad but Steve’s place was tiny and damp and the mold that had to be treated all the time was flourishing.

Bucky pulled his sweatshirt up over his nose and mouth. “I’ve never smelled anything so bad. Look, my eyes are watering. I have to put this in the hall and recover for a second.” When he came back into the apartment, he opened all the windows and gulped in clean air.

Steve picked up some antibacterial spray and squirted it into the trash can. “I hate this apartment.”

Bucky wiped at some black mold on the windowsill. “Me too. I might have a solution to that though.”

“Oh?”

“Brock’s moving out. He got a job in Portland. He told me last night.”

Steve feigned sadness. “Oh no. Whatever will I do without him.” Brock was an ass and he and Steve couldn’t stand each other. Having them both in the same room was like watching two cats spitting at each other before they became an angry fighting ball of fur and claws.

“I know, right? Well, I got to thinking: Why don’t you move in with me? Sure, you’d have to get the subway to your studio but my place is nicer and once Brock takes that stupid multi-gym thing out of the living room, there’ll be room for you to have space to work if you didn’t want to go the studio. Plus, we’d get to hang out more.”

Bucky had been expecting a solid refusal from Steve but instead was surprised when he seemed to consider it.

“The rent will be cheaper too,” Bucky added. “And we already know what bad habits we each have.”

“That’s...yeah, that’s a good idea. You wouldn’t mind?”

Bucky chuffed. “Mind? Steve, I loved living with you in the dorms. Why didn’t we just move in together after college anyway?”

Steve stared down at the kitchen counter. “I thought it would be good for us to have some independence. Look where that got us.”

Bucky sighed and walked over to Steve, getting down on one knee. “Steven Grant Rogers, will you do me the honor of becoming my room-mate again?”

Steve finally smiled. “Oh, James Buchanan Barnes. I will.” He laughed. It wasn’t his usual deep, right-from-the-belly laugh that Bucky loved but it was getting there. He helped Bucky to his feet. “I think I need to give a month’s notice on this place.”

“Perfect,” Bucky said. “I can help you scrub the walls so it’s a little less festery.”

Steve picked up his laundry and headed to door. “I don’t think that’s a word. Come on and sit with me while I wash my clothes.”

*

Bucky was more excited about Steve moving in with him that he was willing to admit and even though he’d have to cover Brock’s rent because he moved out before Steve could move in, at least they could start shunting Steve’s stuff across. Steve seemed a lot brighter too; Bucky wasn’t going to kid himself that Steve wasn’t still keeping his misery to himself but he knew that the change would do him good.

He decided to make Steve a little goodie box as a moving in gift full of his favorite things: Sour Patch Kids, blank notebooks, a couple of true crime books. Bucky also scanned in and made a copy to frame of his favorite photo of him and Steve. They must have been around sixteen; Bucky gangly and cheeks smattered with acne, Steve not that much shorter than he was now with badly-cut bangs. They were in the backyard of one of Steve’s better foster homes, both grinning at the camera. It was hard to believe that they had been best friends for ten years at the point this picture had been taken. Bucky smiled. Steve always apologized to him for seeming so needy but the truth was that Bucky would be lost without him.

*

Steve finally moved in and they were both giddy. They dumped the last of Steve’s bags in his room and both flopped down on the couch.

Steve took a deep breath. “Oh man, this place even _smells_ better than my old apartment.”

“That’s because you’re not breathing in mold spores constantly,” Bucky said.

Steve closed his eyes and hummed. “I’m so glad we decided to do this.”

“Me too,” Bucky said and pulled his gift box out from under the coffee table, putting it onto Steve’s lap. “Happy Moving In Day!”

Steve looked down at the box. “Buck, you shouldn’t have. I didn’t get you anything.”

Bucky nudged him. “It’s not my Moving In Day. Just open it.”

Steve grinned and opened the box, cooing in delight at the books and candy. He picked up the photo, wrapped carefully in tissue paper.

“This one is real special,” Bucky said.

Steve unwrapped it and let out a little breath when he saw it. “Jeez, look at us.” His eyes glistened.

Bucky could feel himself start to choke up and put an arm around Steve’s shoulder. Steve looked at him and gave a little nod. It was a thank you and a million other things.

The next few months were great. They ate dinner together in the evenings, they hung out at the weekends. Steve’s routine at the studio fell into a more nine-to-five deal and he spent the evenings sketching and doodling in the five or six notebooks he kept at any one time. He seemed happier too. Bucky still caught edges of sadness to his smiles or when he thought Bucky wasn’t looking and he couldn’t blame him. Steve had never been one to take his commitments lightly and Bucky knew that Steve thought he and Peggy’s marriage would be forever; he took the failure of that on his part personally. But Steve was slowly coming back to himself, enjoying living with his best friend and putting his all into his work.

*

Friday nights were take-out and movie night and Bucky looked forward to it every week. This week he particularly couldn’t wait because it had been an asshole of a time at work. He just wanted beer, curry and something mindless and fun to watch. Steve was already at the apartment by the time Bucky rolled in at six-thirty, plating up their food.

“Oh you angel, Rogers,” Bucky said as he shucked off his jacket and dropped his bag. “I’m so ready for this you have no idea.”

Steve brought the food over to the coffee table. “Grab those beers? Also, I found my copy of Jaws: The Revenge.” It had been a favorite film and a weird obsession of theirs from childhood.

“Perfect,” Bucky grinned.

Steve grinned back.

They had eaten their food and were about half-way through the movie when Steve’s phone blurped out a message notification. The smile he’d been wearing died on his face when he read it and Bucky immediately knew who it was from.

“It’s Peggy. She wants to Skype.” Steve swallowed.

“Do you want to? You don’t have to, Steve. You can tell her you aren’t ready,” Bucky said softly.

Steve shook his head. “No. I think I want to.” He stood up and wiped his hands on his jeans. “Um, you carry on with the movie. I don’t think I want to be long.” With that he disappeared into his room, closing the door behind him.

Bucky breathed out slowly through his nose. He really hoped that whatever Peggy wanted to talk about wasn’t going to set Steve back. He jiggled his leg and bit at his nails, not really enjoying the movie without Steve.

Half and hour later, Steve came back out of his room and stood next to the couch, his face pinched.

“She met someone,” he said quietly.

“Shit, Steve. I’m sorry.”

“I shouldn’t...I mean, I knew she’d meet someone eventually. I just...didn’t think it would be so soon. She said she owed it to me to tell me.”

Bucky silently cursed Peggy. Sure, they were divorced and hadn’t been an item for a little while before that but couldn’t she at least have left it a while longer before letting Steve know that she’d moved on? “I’m sorry, Steve,” was all Bucky could think of to say again.

Steve shrugged. “Let’s just watch movies.”

“I can put on Airplane! If you want.” Steve loved that film.

“I’m not really in the mood for a comedy.”

“Okay. The Wicker Man?”

Steve sat on the opposite end of the couch, shoulders hunched. “The original or the remake?”

“You said you weren’t in the mood for a comedy. The original.”

“Can we watch Personal Shopper?”

Bucky groaned and cued up Netflix. “Fine.”

“I know you don’t like it.”

“It’s not that I don’t like it, I just don’t _get_ it.” Bucky patted the couch next to him. “C’mere.”

Steve crawled over to him and rested his head on Bucky’s shoulder. “Sorry, Buck.”

“Steve, you got nothing to apologize for. I’m here, okay? However you need me.”

“I’m so glad I’m not alone right now,” Steve said in a small voice.

Bucky hugged him and started the movie. “Maybe I’ll like it better this time around.”

“I love Kristen Stewart,” Steve mumbled.

“I know you do.”

Bucky watched the movie again, trying to figure out why Steve liked it so much. He had done this a lot over the years he realized: Reading books that Steve adored or paintings he liked that Bucky didn’t and tried to put himself in Steve’s place. He always thought it was to try and understand his best friend better because he had such a unique way of looking at the world that fascinated Bucky. Steve’s artwork was almost incomprehensible to him. Bucky was good at solving practical problems and certain elements of design but whip up the things Steve did? Nope. Steve worked hard at his art, sure, but his imagination was something that Bucky admired deeply.

Steve was quiet throughout the movie and Bucky hoped that he wasn’t dwelling on Peggy too much.

Wishful thinking.

*

Steve started to stay late at the studio again, which was a bad sign. Bucky came home to an empty apartment several times and had to call Steve to make sure he wasn’t sleeping there again. Steve would come home, morose, eat quickly and go to bed.

Bucky had always hurt for Steve when something crappy happened to him. He’d had a rough childhood, not that he’d tell anyone because he was _Steve_ but losing his folks so young and being shuffled from one foster home to another for years with no real stability had taken it’s toll on him. Bucky had been the one constant in Steve’s life and he had tried to make it his mission to make sure Steve got good things. He was doing a pretty lousy job of that at the moment.

He came home to no Steve again one evening about six weeks after Peggy’s Skype call and turned around and headed to Steve’s studio. It was a chilly night and he huddled into his coat as he got off of the subway and found Steve’s building. A lot of the other studios were empty at this time of the night and he could see the light from Steve’s shining into the hallway. Music was playing.

When he peered through the door, Steve was sitting at one of his desks. He was sobbing.

“Stevie?” Bucky said.

Steve started and quickly wiped his face. “Hey.”

Bucky sighed and walked over to him. “Talk to me,” Bucky said and pulled Steve into a hug.

Steve didn’t try to hide his tears. “I’m sorry. I just can’t stop thinking about Peggy with someone else. It’s like...I don’t love her and I know we weren’t good together but I still...wish...”

Bucky stroked Steve’s hair. “I know. I know what you mean.”

“I feel so stupid.”

“You’re not stupid and you can talk to me. Don’t keep all of this shit to yourself.”

“I know, I know. I’m just scared...”

Bucky pulled away. “About what?”

Steve’s breath hitched through his sobs. “I’m so terrified of ending up alone forever.”

“Oh Stevie, you won’t.” Bucky looked helplessly at his friend.

“How do you know? You can’t know for sure,” Steve said and he sounded utterly hopeless.

“Because I -” Bucky had time to reign himself in before the words left his mouth. _Because I want you_. He had no idea where that had come from and he shook his head a little.

“Because I just know, okay? You’re smart and talented and funny and kind and...the right person will see that. They will.” Bucky swallowed as he looked at Steve, trying to push back his confusion to focus. _What the fuck, brain?_

“You have to say that. You’re my best friend,” Steve said, wiping his nose on his sleeve.

“I don’t have to say anything I don’t want to, especially when it comes to you. Come home with me?”

Steve nodded. “Okay.”

Bucky hugged Steve again. “We’ll get through this, Steve. _We_. Got that?”

Steve’s hold tightened. “Yeah.”

*

Steve seemed to do a little better after that and they got back into their routine. He still hurt but he was maybe _finally_ starting not to hold it all in and bottle up his feelings all the time.

Meanwhile, Bucky was having a mental crisis, picking apart the thought that had almost spilled so easily from his mouth. _Because I want you_. Did he...want Steve? In that way? All these years they had been friends and Bucky had never once thought of Steve like that. Had he? It was like he didn’t know his own mind anymore. They had been friends through elementary school, high school, college. Through every personal event imaginable. Bucky loved Steve, of course he did. But...did he have a crush on him? Now that the thought was planted in his brain, he couldn’t pull it out and the roots started to grow and take hold.

He found himself watching Steve more, scrutinising everything he did to see how it made him feel: How Steve laughed, how he frowned when he was concentrating on his artwork, how he always seemed to know when Bucky needed a cup of coffee or a snack. Steve was just Steve. But maybe that was enough.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Steve said one Saturday morning when they were both eating breakfast.

Bucky blinked. He hadn’t realized he’d been staring. “Like what?”

“Kind of squinty and weird.”

“I just...wondered if you’d ever considered getting an undercut again.”

Steve snorted. “My undercut days are long gone.”

“It was a good look,” Bucky said, glad that the distraction had worked.

Steve smiled and got to his feet, collecting their breakfast things to put in the sink. “You were the only one that ever thought so. I’m going to go to the studio for an hour or two. Want to meet me for lunch?”

“Sure,” Bucky said, glad that he’d have the apartment to himself for a while. He wanted to panic about this internal crisis in peace. He picked up a magazine from the coffee table and tried to settle casually into his chair. “Burgers?”

Steve put on his jacket and picked up his bag. “Good call. See you around twelve-thirty?”

Bucky waved absently, staring down at the magazine. “I’ll be there."

As soon as Steve was out of the door and Bucky heard him walk down the hallway, he threw the magazine across the room. What the fuck was going on? He slumped in the chair and covered his face, half-laughing, half-moaning. This was crazy. For one, Steve was still getting over a major life event that had hurt him beyond belief. Two, there was a 99.9% chance that Steve didn’t think of Bucky in that way _at all_ so what was the point of putting himself through all of this? Bucky sighed and decided to go for a run. He hated running with a passion but that was what he needed right now – something to make himself feel bad to override another way of feeling bad.

He chuckled wryly as he changed into his running gear, Bucky Barnes: The Master Of Self Abuse.

*

“What happened? You look terrible,” Steve said as Bucky limped into his studio a couple of hours later.

Bucky hobbled over to one of the comfy chairs. “I went for a run.” He groaned as he lowered himself into it.

“Why? You hate running.”

“I wanted to be productive.” Bucky winced. “Everything hurts.”

“I have some news,” Steve said and Bucky caught the excitement in his voice. His eyes were bright. Okay, this definitely wasn’t Peggy News.

“What?” Bucky asked.

Steve was actually buzzing a little. “A DVD and Blu-ray company got in touch with me. They’re doing a major re-release of a ton of cult films next year – new commentaries, documentaries, the works – and they want me to do all the artwork for them. Covers, limited edition prints. Everything.”

Bucky’s mouth gawped. “Holy _shit_ , Steve!” He leapt out of the chair and grabbed Steve in a hug. Steve laughed against him. “This is huge!”

“I know! This is...this is dream job. I can’t believe it. They’re sending Sam a contract to look over.” Sam was Steve’s agent.

“I’m so fucking happy for you,” Bucky said, unable to stop grinning despite the pain in his shins, ankles and everywhere else.

“That’s not the best part. Jaws: The Revenge is one of the movies.”

Bucky howled in delight. “No way!”

They laughed together and Bucky felt hopeful. This was the kind of thing that Steve needed, not just to boost his self-confidence, but also to concentrate on and not dwell over the divorce. It had been eight months now and he was doing better, bit by bit.

Steve laced his fingers behind his head. “I’m a little thrown, to be honest. Between this and the solo show, it’s going to get a bit manic.”

“I’ll help out any way I can. With the show, with whatever you want.”

Steve nodded. “Thanks. I mean, the show is in three weeks. I just...”

Bucky threw his arm around Steve’s shoulder and dragged him towards the door. “Come on, burgers first. Let’s just feel good about this for a few hours and then we can sit down and work out a schedule for you.”

Steve relaxed a little. “Sounds like a plan.”

They went to their favorite burger joint down the street and ordered the unhealthiest thing on the menu.

“Isn’t this counter-productive to your run?” Steve asked, working out how to bite into his own burger.

“I don’t care,” Bucky said with his mouth full.

Steve chuckled. “You’re hilarious, Buck.”

“Hey,” Bucky said, licking mustard from his fingers. “Let’s go out tonight. To celebrate. Red Room has a swing night.”

“I haven’t swung for at least three years,” Steve said. He had talked Bucky into taking a swing dance class with him and they had both enjoyed it a lot. Then things had gotten busy for both of them and they hadn’t really followed up on it.

“It’ll be a giggle. We can both look stupid together.”

Steve swallowed his mouthful of food. “I haven’t been out for a while...” he mused.

“Settled. Dancing tonight.” Bucky grinned as he chewed on a fry.

Steve looked at him with a smile that Bucky hadn’t seen before. Something soft but certain.

“What?” Bucky asked.

Steve shrugged. “Just you.”

*

They both dressed casually but made a bit more of an effort than usual for their night out. Bucky wore a black shirt – sweat wouldn’t show up on black – and a dark pair of jeans. He considered his nice shoes but if they were swing dancing, sneakers would be better.

“Buck, are you wearing shoes or sneakers?” Steve called from his bedroom, as if reading Bucky’s mind.

“Sneakers,” Bucky shouted back.

Steve emerged into the living room. He was wearing a red and black plaid shirt and black jeans; his hair was styled and something tugged in Bucky’s stomach. _No you don’t,_ he silently chided himself and smiled.

“Stevie scrubs up good,” he said and stood up. “Like the hair.”

“Thanks. Thought I’d make an effort. You look very suave. Black’s your colour.”

Bucky gave a little spin and they both laughed as they walked out of the door.

*

The club was busy and people were already dancing. There wasn’t a live band but the music was loud and fun and Bucky perked up immediately.

“Shall we get a drink first? Steve said over the music.

Bucky just grinned and grabbed his hand, pulling him to the dance floor. “Nope!”

Steve rolled his eyes but went willingly. They found a space and Steve put his hands on Bucky’s shoulders.

“You lead,” he said.

Bucky took Steve’s hands away and put his own on Steve’s shoulders. “No, you lead.”

Steve grinned and they both started to move, stumbling a little as they tried to get back into the rhythm of it but not caring one bit how they looked. Gradually they got into it and started to dance, attempted some spins that weren’t entirely successful but had them giggling and generally just having a blast.

A couple danced over to them, a man and a woman about their age.

“You two are such a sweet couple,” the woman said. “We’ve been enjoying watching you dance.”

“Oh, we’re not -” Bucky began.

“Thank you,” Steve said and flashed a mischievous grin at him.

The couple danced away and Bucky grabbed Steve and attempted some kind of Tango lunge. Steve squawked.

“Why did you make them think we were a couple?” Bucky asked, almost toppling over Steve as he tried to pull him back up.

“It was just easier than saying we were friends. Does it matter?”

“Nope,” Bucky said and flung Steve away, listening to him laugh.

They danced for a little while more and while they certainly weren’t the most skilled dancers there, they were definitely the most enthusiastic. Finally, Steve held a hand up. The front of his hair was damp and his cheeks were flushed.

“I need a break,” he said loudly over the music.

Bucky nodded and they went over to the bar. “What do you want? I’ll get the drinks, you get us a table.”

“Something non-alcoholic. I’m feeling pretty good without it.”

Bucky got them both a diet coke and a non-alcoholic cocktail and found Steve at a table away from the dance floor where it was a little quieter. He was dabbing at his face with a napkin.

“Jeez, I’m soaked.”

Bucky sat down beside him. “Feels good though, right.”

Steve smiled and took a gulp of his cocktail. “It really does. I can’t remember the last time I cut loose like this.”

They sat silently for a while and watched the dance floor and drank. After a little while Steve got up.

“Need to pee. Think you can go another few songs when I get back?”

“You got it.”

Bucky watched as Steve walked to the bathroom and there was that tug in his stomach again. _Don’t fucking do it, Barnes. Don’t get a crush on your best friend because it will only end up driving you crazy._

But when Steve came back and held out his hand for Bucky to take and lead him to the dance floor with his 100% Steve Rogers smile, Bucky knew it was too late.

*

They finally called it quits at 11pm and left the club to go home. They strolled down the street, arm in arm, both still giddy from their good time.

“You know what’s really depressing?” Steve said.

“What?”

“I’m a _divorc_ _é_ _e_. That’s what I have to call myself now. I always pictured divorcées as like, older women. And now I’m one.”

“I can totally picture you as a cougar,” Bucky said and Steve made an indignant noise and butted Bucky’s shoulder with his head. “Steve, you can say _single_. You absolutely do not have to tell anyone that you were married if you don’t want to.”

Steve sighed into the night but it wasn’t laced with as much sadness as it had been. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot recently. It was the right call. I know that. And if we had stayed together then it would have been worse but...I just thought that when I got married it would have been with The One, you know? And the more I started to realize that Peggy wasn’t it, when it was too late, I got so scared. I feel like I can move on now, though. Not into anything, just...accepting it.”

“I’m proud of you,” Bucky said softly and curled an arm around Steve’s shoulder as they walked.

Steve smiled up at him. “I couldn’t have done it without you, Buck.”

They walked on in silence and Bucky tried to think about nothing at all.

*

The next three weeks were hectic as hell. Bucky took a few well-deserved days off of work and helped Steve at the studio to prepare for his show: Printing things, calling the gallery to arrange deliveries, calling the caterers, sending emails. All the while, Steve was working hard and trying not to get himself into a panic. They wrapped and packaged Steve paintings and Bucky went with the courier to the gallery to deliver them.

Steve grew more nervous as the opening night got closer and Bucky did his best to keep his friend grounded.

“What was I thinking?” Steve finally squeaked one evening at home. “Why did I agree to this show? I’m a nobody!”

Bucky put down his taco and grabbed a beer from the kitchen. “Steve, come on. You got this.” He handed Steve the beer and Steve chugged it, coughing as it went down the wrong way. “The show is going to be awesome.”

Steve wiped his mouth. “Buck, some really important people are coming; art critics and magazines. What if...what if they think I’m no good?”

Bucky snorted. “Who gives a shit? There are plenty of people who think you _are_ good and they pay you money for your work. Look, your paintings are stunningly beautiful. If those losers don’t see that then I’m a better damn judge of art than they are.”

“You really think my paintings are beautiful?” Steve asked.

“Steve, whenever I look at your work I feel like I’m in another world.”

Steve stood there in the middle of the living room clutching his bottle of beer for a moment, his expression unreadable. He’d been doing that a lot lately and Bucky had usually been pretty good at reading Steve. He wore his heart on his sleeve but the last few weeks Bucky had been finding it harder to gauge what he was thinking. He put it down to the whole Peggy divorce experience.

Steve scratched at his neck and headed for the kitchen. “I want take-out. You in?”

“Sure,” Bucky said. He watched Steve but he was a brick wall.

*

The day before the opening night of Steve’s show, they both sorted their outfits (smart with a touch of casual), went to the gallery to check everything over one last time (artwork impeccably hung, plenty of business cards and mini-portfolios to take away for potential clients), called the caterers (buffet-style finger food and drinks all ready to be delivered) and finally slumped down in a booth at Red Room for a couple of wind-down drinks. Bucky had been chirpy all day, steering Steve around, who had been looking more and nervous all day but, after seeing that everything was running like clockwork, finally relaxed a little at the bar.

Bucky also had little to no time to dwell upon his possible crush on Steve and he really didn’t want to slow down and let his thoughts catch up with him. _I’ll deal with later,_ he kept thinking.

“Okay, we’ll get to the gallery for 3pm, set up the food and drinks, give it one last go over, get changed and boom! Ready for your career to take off even more,” Bucky said.

Steve let out a long breath. “I guess even if it’s a mediocre event, I’m still gaining traction with my work and -”

Bucky flicked Steve’s ear. Steve yelped and looked affronted.

“Steve, you’re going to do great. The show looks incredible. Really.”

Steve rubbed his ear and smiled. “It does look really good, doesn’t it?”

“Those arty farty big-wigs won’t know what hit them.”

*

And then like that, the show was open. It was a lot busier than Bucky had been expecting and he skirted around the edge of the gallery with his wine glass, amazed at the reaction Steve’s work was getting.

“Okay, I’m going to stay out of your way so you can network,” Bucky had said earlier as they were changing in the gallery’s bathroom, “but if you need me, just catch my eye and wink or something.”

Steve straightened his tie and put on his jacket. “Okay. I might look desperate too but I’ll try to wink.”

But Bucky didn’t think that Steve needed any help at all. He was a natural; chatting to people openly and with a boyish charm that was definitely leaving an impression. Bucky was so proud, all he could do was make constant circuits of the room and make sure he was somewhere in Steve’s eye-line in case he tried to wink.

A woman in her 40s was staring intently at one of Steve’s paintings, a huge lumbering bear-thing plodding solemnly through a valley. Bucky sidled up to her. He wanted to know what a total stranger thought of Steve’s work.

“Do you like this piece?” Bucky asked the woman.

She didn’t turn to Bucky but cocked her head slightly. “Technically, I think his paintings are marvellous. But I’m not sure what the artist is trying to say with them. They seem a little...twee? Don’t you think?”

“I see where you’re coming from,” Bucky said, “but I feel like they convey a sense of loneliness and confusion.”

The woman looked at him then. “Yes, I suppose they do. Do you know the artist?”

Bucky grinned. “He’s my best friend and room mate.”

The woman laughed. “And he told you that was the meaning behind these paintings?”

“No, Steve actually never tells me any of the meaning behind his work. But that’s what they feel like to me.”

Bucky chatted to the woman for a few more minutes before moving on. He walked over to the food table and got some orange juice and then scanned the room for Steve. He could see him through the crowd, talking animatedly to a man and a woman in front of one of his film posters. He looked so happy, slightly flushed in the face but really happy.

And just like that, Bucky knew.

He didn’t just have a crush on Steve. He was in love with him.

Bucky watched Steve from across the room and there was no doubt in his mind. He was surprised at how calm he felt by the revelation given his initial panic all this time. He was in love with Steve Rogers. Just then, Steve caught his eye from across the room and smiled softly at him. Bucky smiled back and nodded. He walked away towards the bathroom and when he was alone in the corridor, pressed his forehead to the cool wall.

“Crap,” he said quietly.

*

Steve’s show had definitely been a deal breaker for his career and the next few weeks saw an influx of job offers and magazine interviews. This meant he was spending a lot of time with Sam and at his studio and less time at home, which was good in a way because Bucky had no idea what to do with himself.

He had taken apart and put together everything a million times in his head and he was in love with Steve. Should he tell him? He was sure it wouldn’t ruin their friendship but it would be weird. He didn’t know what the right thing to do was.

He was sulking at home one Friday evening, wondering what time Steve would be home when he got a text.

STEVE: Hey! I’m really sorry I’ve been so busy lately. I feel like I’ve barely seen you. Want to meet me at the studio and go out for food? My treat :)

Bucky smiled and got up, putting on his sneakers and grabbing his jacket. He’d think about all of this another time. He caught the subway and walked up to Steve’s building. The door was open and music was playing softly from the studio. Bucky peered in. Steve was fiddling with a canvas over by the window.

“Hey,” Bucky said.

Steve looked up and smiled. “Hey!” He put his hands in his pockets and walked over to Bucky. “I owe you an apology.”

Bucky frowned. “For what?”

“You helped me so much in the lead up to the show and then I just kind of...disappeared on you afterwards.”

“Steve, you’ve been busy with work and I get that. You don’t need to apologize.”

Steve shrugged. “Still. I feel bad.”

Bucky grinned. “You’re the only person I know who can feel bad for doing nothing wrong.”

Steve bit his lip. “I...I have a gift for you.” He pointed to the canvas. It was angled away so Bucky couldn’t see it.

Something in the way he said it made something in Bucky’s chest clench. He tried to think of something witty or sarcastic to say but nothing would come. Instead, he walked over to the canvas and looked at it.

It was a painting of him, rendered carefully in acrylics. He was smiling, his eyes bright and blue.

“I...wow,” Bucky said. “This is...wow.”

Steve walked over to him carefully. “You like it?”

“It’s beautiful,” Bucky said and swallowed. There was more to this than Steve just deciding to paint him. “At your show, I got talking to this woman who couldn’t figure out what the meaning was in your work. She asked me if I knew and I said you never tell me.”

“You want to know what the meaning behind this painting is?” Steve said softly.

Bucky nodded.

“I thought Peggy was the one. At first, I really did. And then everything fell apart and I took it really hard. But I’ve realized that as wrong as everything was with Peggy, with you...everything is right.”

Bucky’s heart thumped. “Steve...”

Steve looked as terrified as Bucky felt. “Bucky, I’m...”

“I’m in love with you,” Bucky said.

Steve frowned in confusion. “Are you...finishing my sentence for me or…?”

Bucky shook his head. “No...yes. I mean...” He took Steve’s hand. “I’m in love with you, Steve.”

Steve’s face broke into a grin. “I’m in love with you, too. It just took me a while to see what was right in front of me. You’ve never let me down and I just...I’m so in love with you, Bucky.”

Bucky grinned back. “I’m going to kiss you now, okay?”

Steve nodded. Bucky leaned down and kissed him softly. Steve held the front of Bucky’s shirt and kissed him back.

When they pulled away, Bucky gently brushed his hand through Steve’s hair. “It took me a while to see what was right in front of me too.”

Steve looked up at Bucky. “I know it’s been less than a year since Peggy but I’m really sure about this. I just had this feeling, you know? That you...liked me.”

Bucky smiled softly. “I have to admit that I wasn’t dealing with it very well. At your show, it kind of hit me.”

Steve smiled back. “Me too. As soon as I realized, it was like it had always been there.”

Bucky took Steve in his arms and kissed him again. “I’m so glad this happened. Now I never need to find another room mate ever again.”

Steve poked Bucky in the side and made him laugh. “Seriously, Buck. I don’t want you to think this is a...rebound from Peggy or anything.”

“I don’t,” Bucky said. “And I know we still need to figure a lot of this out but I’m just happy to be with you all the time.”

Steve kissed Bucky and they held each other for a long time.

“Come on,” Bucky said and took Steve’s hand. “Let’s get dinner and play footsie and gaze into each others eyes.”

Steve laughed and turned off the lights in the studio, closing the door behind them.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I've hit a bit of a block with part two of The Heart Wants so I thought I'd work on something else in the meantime. I hope you enjoy this little story!
> 
> As always, thank you so much for all the wonderful comments I continue to receive. I'm so sorry I can't answer all of them.


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